Chameleon
by speechless97
Summary: How do you win when the one you're fighting against knows you impeccably? When they know every move you're going to make? That's easy, you don't. But you sure as hell try your hardest - you can't afford not to when the stakes are this high.
1. Prologue

"_Let us suppose that when we are born, the mind, as we say, is white paper, void of all characters – tabula rasa. We are like chameleons, we take our hue and the color of our moral character, from those who are around us."_-John Locke

I knew I shouldn't have come, but my choices were limited. This was the better of the two evils.

She gave me a choice – I was supposed to appreciate that. But we both knew it wasn't really a choice to make – we both knew that I would give myself up in a heartbeat if it meant saving the team.

She knew, of course she knew, and she used it to her advantage.

All the knowledge she had about me, everything that we had ever gone through together had helped her build a solid profile of me in her head.

And now, she was using that to destroy me. Kind of ironic, actually.

I knew this wasn't going to end well from the second I got the phone call. But going against every instinct I had, against every rule in the handbook, I went.

I went because I believed too many people had already suffered because of me. I'd ruined enough lives. There was no way I was letting her kill my team for something that was clearly my fault.

Some part of me knew that this would happen eventually though. I'd always seen that little piece of something evil inside her, yet I'd ignored it.

There's evil in all of us, I thought. I was wrong though.

I knew she might seek revenge, but I never knew she could be capable of something like this.

But what I thought didn't matter, what I was wrong about didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was getting my team out safely, even if I knew that that probably wasn't going to happen.

She had experience – she knew most of us. She knew of all my techniques and she expected every one of my moves.

Knowing that, I had to accept that I probably wasn't going to win.

But I could get my team out, hopefully. That was all that mattered, really.

I tried to keep that thought in my head as I moved the heavy metal door and took out a picture of my little boy from my pocket, kissing it and putting it in the palm of my hand as I stepped inside.

**[Here's just the prologue. I know it's a bit vague, and the quote doesn't really make sense yet, but you'll understand everything later, I promise. This will be a team fic, btw.**

**Leave me a review if you want me to continue?]**


	2. Chapter 1

Morgan's whole world was spinning. The room was going in and out of focus, and he found he had to close his eyes to keep himself from throwing up.

His hands were tied behind him, at least that's what he thought – he had yet to fully open his eyes. It all seemed like some weird dream, like all he had to do was pinch himself and he'd wake up and everything would be normal.

Blinking rapidly, he noticed a wall in front of him, four screens on it, side by side.

Morgan tried desperately to clear his mind so that he could see what was on the screens. They were pictures, people – it was getting clearer now, but he still couldn't tell.

All of a sudden, he heard a voice behind him. He tried to turn his head towards it, but that just brought a new wave of nausea.

"Long time no see Morgan.", the woman said.

Derek would recognize that voice anywhere. It was his partner – the woman he had trusted his life to countless times. But no, it _couldn't_ be.

"Elle?", he said, squeezing his eyes shut.

She moved to stand in front of him, gun in hand. She had changed – her hair was now in a bob just above her shoulders, and she had lost a lot of weight. But there was a different look in her eyes too; it didn't look like the woman he had known.

But when he opened his eyes, he found he couldn't focus on her much. Because he could just make out Reid on one of the screens on the wall behind her, stumbling lightly, trying to find a way out of the tiny white room he was confined to. Derek could see Rossi, propped up against the wall on another screen, eyes just barely fluttering open. All he saw on the third screen was JJ's petite form in a heap on the floor, back to the camera.

Derek looked over to the last screen and saw Emily, hands chained to the wall of her room. She was pulling on the chains with no avail, trying to get further than two feet from the wall.

Looking back to Elle, Derek noticed the hint of a smile on her face as she saw him realize what was happening.

"Where's – where's -", Derek tried to say, but it seemed he couldn't form a coherent sentence because of the pounding in his head.

"Penelope?", Elle said, her smile turning into a deathly glare. "I know she was always your favorite. But don't worry, she's safe. She'll be better off after this is over anyway."

He tried to zero in on what she was saying, tried to understand what the _hell_ was going on. But it proved difficult when the only thing he could focus on was Reid stumbling around his room like a lost puppy and JJ laying there, unmoving.

"H- Hotch?", he just managed to utter out, wondering what the hell she had drugged him with.

Elle leaned over to him, putting her face near his, toying with her gun. He swallowed, but kept a brave face as he saw her hand linger on the trigger.

"He's on his way, don't you worry."

Derek was almost taken aback by the look that crossed her face. It was a look he had seen many times before, no doubt. But only on killers, only on _monsters_. He just couldn't wrap his mind around Elle, the person he used to trust impeccably, his friend, could be capable of that look - could be capable of _this_.

"Why are you doing this?", he said, his voice slightly breaking on the words as he saw Emily tug at the chains one last time and throw her hands up in frustration, sitting up against the wall. Finally he saw her face – the black eye and cut lip, and he couldn't keep the anger out of his voice.

Suddenly, Elle was close to him again, her face almost touching his.

"Why? You wanna know _why_, Derek? Damn, I thought you'd understand!", she raised her voice, slamming her hand down angrily on the arm of his chair.

"Elle, listen I know that how things with you worked out weren't ideal, but -", he tried to reason with her, just like he did with UnSubs. She was an UnSub now – he had to wrap his mind around that.

"Weren't fucking _ideal_ Derek? You and me both know it was all Hotch's fault! It ruined my life!" She was screaming now, gripping her gun dangerously tightly in her hands.

"Yes but now you're turning into the very same people we try to catch!", Morgan raised his voice to match hers, cursing himself for letting his anger show. He opened his mouth to say something again, to redeem himself, but before he could, she raised her gun and hit him on the side of the head.

His world spun once again, and he could barely hear her when she told him to get up and practically dragged him out of the chair.

Derek found it hard to even walk as she pushed him out of a metal door and into a hallway, opening another door and pushing him into a new room. He just leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as the door slammed shut. He was just about to give in to the blackness when he heard a voice that snapped him back to reality.

"Oh my god Morgan, are you okay?"

He just managed to open his eyes long enough to see Emily stretching her hand out to him, but still a few feet away.

"Derek, come on, move over here. Please.", she motioned with her hand as she cursed the stupid chains that kept her away from him.

He didn't look like he heard her, so she repeated his name louder. She knew that the worst thing for him would be going unconscious right now.

"Derek, come on, please, just open your eyes."

His eyes half opened and slowly he stood up, supporting himself on the wall and took the three tentative steps toward her before falling on the ground again.

She gasped as she looked at the bleeding wound on his head. He seemed to be floating in and out of consciousness every second, which scared her to no end.

Taking off her blouse, she was suddenly thankful she had worn a t-shirt underneath. She scrunched it up and pressed it to Derek's wound, putting his head on her lap.

After a minute, he seemed to sober up a little.

"Emily, what happened to you?", he said, his voice hoarse.

"I- I don't know.", she responded as she tried to put the pieces of her broken memory together. "I woke up in a car, but before I could register anything, she knocked me out again.", she motioned to her black eye.

A look of concern, like always, flashed across Derek's face, but soon it was gone, replaced instead by pure hurt.

"It's Elle.", he said, the look in his eyes more broken than she'd ever seen.

"I know Morgan.", she tried to convey sympathy as best as she could. She couldn't imagine how terrible it would be to have someone you once trusted turn on you like that.

But she had done it to Ian, she couldn't help thinking. She had made him trust her, love her, and then she'd turned on him. She was just as bad as Elle.

"Where are the others?", she asked then, desperate to get her mind off of her own demons.

"JJ, Reid and Rossi are here, all in separate rooms. She has video surveillance. You're the only one with the chains though.", he said, sitting up. "JJ seemed to be in pretty bad shape – I think she was still out. Reid and Rossi were awake though. Ell-", he started, but stumbled on her name. "She said Hotch was coming."

"Garcia?", Emily asked, holding her breath.

"She's safe.", Derek responded, but that hint of doubt and betrayal was still imbedded in his voice. Emily breathed out a sigh of relief and kept pressing on his head with her shirt, the material now soaked a deep red.

"What does she want?", Emily continued, hitting his arm lightly when he tried to pull away.

"I have no idea."

They both looked away for a second, both knowing that much couldn't be said with her no doubt listening. Elle was the enemy now, the UnSub. Usually, they would try to profile. But Derek realized that profiling might be just what they needed right now.

"So, why only chain you up? We were all drugged as far as I know.", he said, nodding at her to follow his lead. Of course, he knew Emily would understand what he meant.

"I don't know, maybe I was the biggest threat to her? I took her place, after all." Emily said, catching Derek's drift.

They needed to show that they were going to treat her just like they treated the killers they worked with every day. They needed to plant the idea that she was just another monster to them in her head. Maybe then she'd make a mistake.

Derek winced lightly at the pain, but continued.

"Probably. So, a part of this was maybe about you."

Emily looked down for a second, recalling something Derek had said.

"You said she told you that Hotch was 'coming'?"

"Yeah. I'm guessing this is some kind of ransom, a power play."

"So he wants him to come to her – she wants to strip him of his dignity and get revenge."

There was a silence then, both of them absorbing what Emily had just said. They were both hoping that Hotch wouldn't come – that he wouldn't give her exactly what she wanted, but they knew he would. Hotch would do anything to protect the team.

"You said everyone had their own room right? Why take you out first, and then put you in my room? Why put us together?", Emily said after a couple minutes.

Derek thought about this, and realization dawned on him. He tilted his head back and hit it against the wall, wondering how the hell he hadn't noticed what Elle was trying to do.

"She thought I would understand why she was doing this. She wanted to see my reaction to see if I would help her!", he said, disgusted.

"Alright, but why room us together?"

"Maybe she didn't have enough space?", Derek said, but all three of them knew that that was bullshit.

She'd put them in the same room to see how they acted with each other. She _was_ a profiler, after all. She'd put them together to see how they talked to one another, to see how much they cared – because she wanted to know if Emily was a better partner than she had been.

It's human nature, really, to feel a little bit jealous. To wonder if you had been good enough.

And Emily and Derek had both knowingly fallen right into that trap. They'd shown her exactly how much they cared, and it was going to come back and bite them in the ass eventually.

Derek looked down at her hands then, which already had dark red sores where the handcuffs were.

"Emily, you've really gotta stop pulling on those.", he said, lifting up her wrist gently and observing the wounds.

She rolled her eyes at him and cracked a little smile, attempting to maybe restore some normalcy.

They just sat there, leaning against each other, Emily applying pressure to the wound on the side of his head.

After a while, Emily felt Derek's head droop on her shoulder.

"Morgan, Morgan!", she panicked, shaking him lightly.

He couldn't fall asleep now – he probably had a concussion, maybe even worse.

Moving his head back onto her lap, she patted his face lightly and repeated his name until he fully opened his eyes again.

"Hey, come on, stay awake... Alright, let's talk. About anything you want.", she said in a futile attempt to get him back into reality. Maybe, just maybe, if he could focus on something else, he wouldn't slip away. She would do whatever she needed, she would _not_ let him die.

"Tell me about Paris.", he said after a second, his voice weak, but his eyes wide open, wondering.

She took a deep breath and started – because she would, if it meant keeping him or the rest of the team alive. She would do whatever it took.

**[This idea kind of came from all the tumblr confessions about wanting Elle to come back as an UnSub. **

**Hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and I promise there will be more of the team later on... Reviews make my day(: ]**


	3. Chapter 2

Rossi heard the door open, of course.

But he didn't turn around. He just sat, exactly like he was, staring at a spot on the ground in front of him.

Maybe it was a pride thing, but he didn't want to give in, he didn't want to give this UnSub the satisfaction.

He heard the gentle click approach, and tried to profile the shoes. They didn't sound like men's shoes – they sounded like heels. Not quite as loud as JJ's or Garcia's, but the distinct click was still there. It was like the sound of Emily's boots. Yeah, that's what it was.

Rossi was a bit surprised that the UnSub was a woman, but he quickly put that out of his mind as he saw the toes of black boots.

"David Rossi. I was hoping we'd meet soon.", an unfamiliar voice said.

Dave looked up at her, trying to wreck his brain for who this might be. She knew _him_, that was for sure.

He had seen her before. But where?

And then, it hit him.

There was a picture frame in Aaron's office – the one between Jack's new school picture and the picture of the current BAU team. It was the old team. Morgan, Reid, JJ and Garcia were still there – looking just a few years younger. But instead of him was Gideon, and instead of Emily was a brunette with a hint of a smile on her face.

And here she was, standing before him, gun in hand, smile nowhere to be found.

"You must be Elle.", he said, voice calm, posture friendly. Just like he'd done so many times before. He tried to convince himself that this was just like any other interrogation, just another profile.

Elle leaned down towards him, twirling her gun on her finger.

"You know, I've read _all_ of your books.", she said, just a hint of satisfaction in her voice.

She was trying to play him. Usually, this would tell him that she was a psychopath, no doubt.

But he couldn't be sure of anything. This woman had worked with the worst of serial killers too – she had studied the same techniques as him, she knew exactly the profile that was forming in his mind. She could very well be faking it. The look, the voice, could be well-rehearsed and just masking something else.

"If you did read my books, then you should know that there's no way that this is going to end well for you.", he tried, even though the attempt would probably be futile.

She ignored him, instead squinting and observing every action she made.

_They were trying to profile each other._

After a couple minutes of deathly silence, Elle spoke again.

"You know, you're nothing like Gideon.", she said, just a hint of something in her voice.

Dave couldn't tell what it was though – it could've been disappointment, or relief, or maybe even happiness.

"How so?", he said, trying to get her talking.

She looked him square in the eyes for a second before breaking into a little laugh.

"Dave, come _on_. Do you think I don't know what you're trying to do? Besides, you know Gideon. I know you know how different you are from him. And you _love_ that you're not like him. Admit it."

He paused for a second, realizing what he hadn't before. It had been relief that had graced her face when she realized he was nothing like Jason. She hated Gideon. And, finally, he had the upper hand.

"Well, to be quite honest, I'd never really like the way Jason worked.", he said, trying to keep impartial, trying to give her something to stress over.

"Because he would always take charge, wouldn't he? He would always make it _all about him_.", she said, her voice rising half an octave. He saw the anger flash in her eyes, and for a second he knew he was getting somewhere.

She had a short fuse, like Morgan. He could use that to his advantage.

A thought crossed his mind though. Elle and Derek must've not been very efficient as partners. In a good partnership, you always needed balance – and two people with a short fuse would get you exactly the opposite of that. That's why Emily and Morgan were so good together. She would think everything out, she would try to stop him before he did anything stupid. Elle would've just egged him on.

"Yeah. He left the BAU, you know. Disappeared a few years back.", he said calmly, watching for her reaction.

The anger disappeared and a coy smile crept onto her face again.

"Oh, I know."

Dave got a bad feeling as soon as she uttered those words. He thought he'd had the upper hand, but he hadn't. She'd just been playing him all along.

"I haven't seen him since.", he said, falling right into her charade, already cursing himself for not seeing this coming, somehow.

"Well, I'm sure he sends his love.", she spat out, before moving towards the door.

Dave threw his head up and closed his eyes, muttering a string of curse words in Italian, which was already so out of character for him. But he couldn't help it. Because Gideon didn't send his love. He wasn't out there somewhere, living his life, like they'd all liked to think he was. Gideon was dead, and Elle had been the one who pulled the trigger.

He wondered how he hadn't seen it before.

"Oh, and about what you said; how this wouldn't end well for me -", she said, turning her head back to face him, already half out the door, "I know it isn't, didn't need your books to tell me that. But, truth is, I have nothing left to lose.", she finished before stepping out of the room and slamming the door shut.

And Dave knew that it was the truest thing she had said to him yet.

JJ rolled over, trying to focus her eyes on the metal door on the side of the room.

She felt vomit almost going up her throat, but she swallowed it, somehow. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her heart, which seemed like it was beating erratically out of her chest.

JJ realized how pathetic she looked, lying on her side, taking the same deep calming breaths that they had taught in birthing class, even though she was definitely not pregnant anymore.

But she knew that even sitting up wasn't an option for her.

All of a sudden, she felt the bile rising up her throat again, and this time she couldn't stop it.

JJ leaned her head a little ways away from where she was laying, and vomited most likely everything that was in her stomach.

Then she slumped back down in that same miserable little heap. It took almost all the strength she had to just turn to her other side.

God, she was a pathetic mess.

So many thoughts were clouding her mind. She needed to be able to think, to figure at least some of this out, but she couldn't.

All she could see was a picture of Henry flashing through her mind. She wondered how he would react when his mommy just didn't come home one day. She wondered if it would break Will, or if he would somehow carry on, maybe even find someone else.

JJ wondered if they would ever find her body; what her funeral would be like.

_No, stop, _she thought to herself.

First, she needed to figure out where the hell she was and who had taken her.

There was a gentle noise, like a knock, coming from her left.

At first JJ thought that she'd surely imagined it, but there it was again, clear as day.

She managed to get herself up on her arms and practically drag herself over to the wall that the knocking had come from.

Someone else was here, she thought.

The thud on the wall came again, and she raised her fist and knocked back, making a desperate attempt for contact.

The knock was returned a second later, and JJ found herself overwhelmed with hope. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't going to die here.

But she had to laugh at her own stupidity. It was just a stupid knock. There was someone else here, she knew that now, but it's not like that changed anything.

She closed her eyes tight, leaning her back against the wall, and hoped that when she opened them again she would wake up at home, with Will by her side and Henry crying in his crib.

She even wouldn't mind opening her eyes in a hotel, on a case, or on the jet, hearing the whispers of the team all around, as not to wake her.

She would give anything to be there right now.

And yet, when she opened her eyes, she was still there, in that stupid, god-forsaken white room, her vomit splayed out over the floor, and the metal door standing, like a beast, between her and freedom.

JJ put her hand over her mouth and let out a scream, biting into her palm so hard that she was sure she drew blood.

The knock came again, gentler this time, as if asking if she was alright.

She wasn't, but she knocked back softly anyway.

The pattern continued for what must've been hours.

A knock came, she returned it. JJ had thought that it might be morse code, and then again cursed herself for never learning any. Reid had offered once, why hadn't she let him teach her?

But the knocks came in groups of two or three, far too short for a message.

JJ heard an unfamiliar noise then. It was the squeak of a door, and her eyes automatically shot over to the metal one on the opposite side of the room.

It was opening, and JJ found herself holding her breath, waiting for her captor to be revealed.

She knocked one final time – loud and distinct, it was a warning. They didn't knock back.

And then the door closed behind her, and JJ found herself faced with a pair of shoes that she could've sworn were Emily's.

And yet, as she looked up, it wasn't Emily who she saw, not even close.

It was Elle Greenaway, and JJ's heart almost stopped out of pure shock.

And yet, at that moment, everything started to make sense.

**[Sorry it took a while to get this up – life got in the way. But review if you'd like to see a chapter 3, and tell me what you think :)]**


	4. Chapter 3

"Elle?", JJ said, pure shock in her voice.

She blinked her eyes a couple times, still hoping that what she was seeing was not real.

JJ had always believed in good and bad. She had to, to keep her world in order. They were the good guys – they worked to catch the bad ones. That was how everything was supposed to be.

Those lines between good and bad had blurred for her with Emily and Doyle, and now they were blurring again. JJ was starting to believe that the world wasn't just black and white – it was a million different shades of gray.

"It's been a while, JJ. Funny how things work out. All that _keeping in touch _that you promised.", Elle responded, stepping over the vomit still spewed on the floor.

JJ remembered when Elle had left. She remembered the hug and telling her that they would stay in touch, of course. And yet they hadn't seen each other since that day.

She just got tied up with work. Yes, that's what it was. But in reality, neither of them had made an effort. And so they fell out of touch. Phone calls every week turned into a text once a month. A text turned into one-way Christmas cards. And then, nothing at all.

Elle walked closer to JJ and kneed down, so they were at eye level.

"Why are you doing this?", JJ asked weakly, even though the answer was clear – maybe it had been clear from the time Randall Garner broke into her house.

"Come on, you know why. But this is about Hotch for me, if you're a good girl, you'll come out of this alive."

JJ could tell she was lying though. There were the indicators, right on her face. She went through all that Reid had taught her, all the signs of deception, and quickly found them in Elle. She wasn't going to get out of here alive, no way in hell.

Something else was bothering JJ too. Why was Elle being so relaxed? Her guard was down, she seemed to be revealing everything.

But she didn't know that JJ was a profiler now. Finally, she had found something that she could use to her advantage.

"I have a son, you know. A little boy.", she said, watching for a reaction. Elle had liked kids, the _old_ Elle had, at least. JJ couldn't help hoping that some small part of the old her was in there somewhere.

"Just another thing I missed, I guess.", Elle said, resentment lining her tone again.

"His name's Henry. He'll be four soon."

JJ saw her face soften up a little, the woman she used to know shone through, but a second later that rigid mask appeared again.

"Don't worry, you'll see your little boy again, as long as Aaron does what he's told.", she said, and JJ realized how completely she had changed.

Seven years ago, when they had first met, she could've never imagined that Elle Greenaway, always laughing and full of life, could be capable of something like this.

Yet, she was. People, in the end, were changed by their experiences. What had happened to Elle affected her so deeply that she had lost herself. And they had all seen it happening, five years ago. JJ couldn't help thinking that if they would've caught it back then, if they would've helped somehow, none of this would be happening.

But it was too late.

"Why now?", JJ said, and paused. "You left five years ago. Why do all of this now?"

"I had a lot of messes to clean up, trash to take out. But this, this is my final loose end."

And with those words, JJ swore a hundred bricks dropped on her shoulders. She found it hard to breathe again; like all the air was being squeezed out of her lungs. She didn't even hear when Elle left the room – nothing really registered.

And her whole world started falling in around her as she realized that this, very well could be _all her __fault._

* * *

><p><p>

Reid did anything and everything to keep himself from thinking.

He recited poems, whole books even. He tried to recall every single detail from his psychology textbook in college.

Anything that occupied his mind, he found out, stopped him from thinking about the harsh reality he was facing.

He was halfway through writing the Fibonacci sequence on his palm with his finger when he heard the door open. He didn't look at her though, just started scribbling more furiously on his hand, his nails almost breaking the skin.

Reid couldn't bare to look at her. Her face was so familiar, yet she wasn't the person he had known. She had changed the day that she was shot – they'd all seen it. Then she'd just left the team, left REID, just like everyone else in his life had.

"Hey.", she said gently, as if she was consoling him – as if _he_ was the crazy one.

He just kept on staring into his hand, his scribbling only getting more frantic.

_377,610,987,1597,2584.._

"Elle.", he said simply, just a simple statement. But yet, he hadn't looked at her.

"How did you know?", she said, surprise clearly in her voice.

"I woke up in the car – couldn't move, but I saw you.", he said, his voice breaking even as he tried so hard to keep it steady.

"I- I gave you a big dose.", she said.

"I have a high tolerance for drugs now.", he responded, pent up anger in his voice.

_2178309, 5702887 ,9227465..._

He somehow wanted to hurt her as much as possible. He wanted her to feel what he did when she left. Spencer was ashamed though, because he was hurting her not for the profile – in fact he hadn't even started one for Elle, but for his own personal reasons. She had hurt him. Her leaving is something he would probably never get over. And now this.

He couldn't bring himself to profile her – and in the moment, he didn't even care. All he wanted was to hurt her.

"A lot's changed since you left. That happens, you know. When you cut people out of your life completely. They change. And they forget about you."

Elle looked at him wide-eyed, surprised at the outburst. He had changed. The old Spencer Reid would never have said this. The old Spencer Reid had too much self-control for that.

"Reid, look, I never meant to hurt you. With any of this."

He didn't respond though, so she bent down to his level and grasped his hand in hers, stopping him from writing. And finally he looked up at her, seeing just a little part of the old Elle, his friend.

"Look, I promise I'll let you go first. As soon as Hotch gets here.", she said, and it sounded like an attempt to make up, but Reid almost laughed at how pathetic it was.

"If you really want me to trust you, let me _pick_ who you let go first.", he said, trying to pry his hands away from hers.

She looked at him, and her suspicions were confirmed. He was nothing like the kid she'd known. He'd grown into a man.

"If I were to agree, who would you pick? Hypothetically, of course.", Elle said, already knowing his answer.

He looked her dead in the eyes and answered.

"Emily."

Elle let go of his hands and stood up, walking across the room.

"Why?", she said, her tone almost hurt. Yeah, it hurt being replaced. Spencer knew what that was like.

"You know why. I know how much you're going to make her suffer.", he said, staring into her back as she faced the wall on the other side of the room.

Elle turned to face him again and opened her mouth like she was going to say something. Like she was going to ask if Emily was better than her - Spencer knew that was what she wanted to know. Yet, the words never came and her mouth just shut.

So he started writing the numbers on his hand again, focusing on the math that was going on inside the brain rather than on Elle.

"You know what you can calculate for me kid?", she said, anger suddenly in her voice.

She was standing with the door open, on her way out.

"What?"

"Tell me who wins in this.", she said, looking around at the mess she had made. At the battle she had created.

"I don't need any calculations to tell me that. I think we both know the answer to that question."

She just nodded before stepping out and closing the door behind her, leaving Spencer with his never-ending pattern of numbers – the only thing that really made sense.

**[Sorry of Reid seems a bit OOC here, I feel like him and Elle had a really strong friendship, and he would react strongly to her leaving... Also, if you have any comments/constructive criticism, the review box is open (:]**


	5. Chapter 5

**[Sorry for the delay, here you go guys!]**

"How are you holding up?", Emily whispered, her face merely inches away from Morgan's.

"I'm fine.", he answered.

They had been sitting like that, whispering to each other, with Morgan's back firmly to the camera, shielding Emily, for hours now. This way Elle couldn't see what they were doing - she couldn't hear what they were saying.

It gave them some kind of illusion of an advantage, which helped their spirits, if nothing else.

"What do you think it's been, 24 hours?", she asked, cringing at his pained expression. The blood on his head had dried, and was now making an ugly maroon pattern on his face. But she guessed the pain hadn't lessened one bit.

Elle hadn't come in for hours, maybe even days. Emily could feel the emptiness in the pit of her stomach. They'd already somehow reached an unspoken agreement about the bathroom (far right corner of the room, other person closes their eyes), but they couldn't last much longer without food and water.

Morgan, he wouldn't last much longer in general, with his wound not bandaged up.

"Maybe more.", he responded, wavering a little, his head drooping almost onto hers.

"Derek!", she whispered, panicked. Every time this happened, the very real possibility of him dying right there and then crept into her mind, and she completely lost it.

She shook his shoulders a little, but not enough to let the camera see. His eyes opened a crack, and she looked up to see fresh blood pooling on his forehead again.

She could not let him die. She would do whatever it took, just like he had done for her only months before.

Something he had said earlier popped into her mind. _"Elle has the advantage here. She knows us, she knows about our techniques, about our personalities, our lives, our weaknesses. That's the only reason this is possible. She's confident that everything will work out, because she knows absolutely everything there is to know."_

Well, what if she didn't?

Emily took a deep breath, and hoped that what she was about to do wouldn't kill her. That maybe, hopefully, it would save Derek.

She knew she would get hurt, but that didn't matter much. She would suffer all the pain in the world if it meant saving her team, and they would do the same for her. They were a family, and you protected your family with all you had.

So she leaned closer to Derek, shifting him slightly to the side, into full view of the camera. She whispered, "I'm sorry.", to his half-awake form, and she kissed him.

When she pulled away, his eyes opened all the way, full of surprise. But she just nodded to him, knowing he would follow her lead, and threw herself into his arms. She had to make this convincing, if she was going to fool a profiler.

Minutes later, as expected, the door opened, and there stood Elle, a prominent scowl on her face.

"I _knew_ there was something I was missing.", she said, and walked over to them, practically throwing the already-weak Emily off of him.

Elle reached into her pocket, and for a second Emily was frozen in fear that it would be a weapon. But no, a second later, she pulled out a bandage and some antiseptic.

"Let's get him cleaned up, I think he'll want to see this."

* * *

><p><p>

Hotch pushed open the metal door, expecting to see Elle waiting for him. He was prepared for the worst, that's why he felt relief as he saw JJ sitting, propped up against the wall, seemingly un-injured.

She didn't look up though. At second glance, he saw the used-up lipstick lying by her hand and the lines and lines of red writing on the wall before her.

"JJ?", he asked tentatively, but she just kept staring at her writing, blank look on her face.

_Roy Laurie, January 2008_

_Alex Martin, July 2008_

_Meredith Fencher, December 2008_

_Andrew Tong, August 2009_

_James Furber, February 2010_

_Jose Manes, October 2010_

_Agetha Roman, January 2011_

"JJ, what's wrong?", Hotch said, trying not to sound panicked.

She finally looked at him, and he noticed for the first time the tear tracks down her face.

"Hotch, I could've stopped all of this.", she said, her bottom lip beginning to quiver. He couldn't help thinking that he had never seen her so un-composed.

"Shh, tell me what happened.", he said, putting an army gently around her shoulders.

"Elle- she- she's killed before. This file, it's been on my desk for at least a year, but you know I have to pick and choose. Seven convicted or suspected serial killers have been killed in the last 5 years, all around the country. They all had 'trash' written on their foreheads in blood."

A sob escaped her lips, but she continued.

"I- I remember seeing the file a hundred times, each time putting it off for later. There just... There just always seemed to be innocent people, children, that we needed to save. I- I guess I kind of thought this guy was doing us a favor. Hotch, if I would've looked at that file and given it the attention it deserved, we would have caught her months ago. I- I'm so sorry.", she said, her voice cracking.

He just sat there for a second, staring at the long list of names, still not quite believing that the agent he had trusted could do anything like this.

"Are- Are you sure it's her?"

JJ brought her knees up to her chest, holding them close, and nodded.

"She came in before, and I asked her why she was doing all of this _now_. She said she'd had a lot of messes to clean up, a lot of _trash_ to take out. And that's when I knew."

Sobs seemed to be shaking her whole body, and Hotch genuinely feared that she was falling apart. The JJ he knew wouldn't have lost her composure like this. Somehow, something that had happened had already changed her. And he only had himself to blame for that.

"Shhh, come on, it's gonna be alright.", he said, pulling her in for a hug.

Even he seemed to know how out of character this was for him, but he found it to be the only appropriate reaction to what was happening.

Maybe, if he could physically hold her together in his arms, maybe then she wouldn't fall apart.

"It's all my fault.", she whispered into his chest.

"No, it's not. Listen JJ, any of us would've done the same. I know the choices you have to make every day kill you inside, and yes, sometimes you're going to make mistakes and pick the wrong cases. It will always happen, you just have to learn to move on.", he said, pulling her up, looking into her blue eyes.

"And we need to move on right now. We need to get out of here. For Jack. For Henry. Alright?", he added, hoping to put some of the hope back into her face.

She just nodded numbly, but it would have to be enough for Hotch, for now.

He had put her sloppily back together with Scotch tape. Eventually, she would have to really be fixed. But it would do for now. It's not like he had much of a choice.

Morgan opened his eyes to the sound of a handcuff being locked on his own hand. After a couple seconds, the room stopped spinning and fell into place, yet he didn't like what he saw.

Emily was sitting on a chair across the room, and he was now chained where she had been, way out of her reach.

Elle was standing over him, and almost giddy smile on her face.

"Oh you two _lovebirds_, I _knew_ there was something going on.", she said.

What the hell was she talking about?

But then, the muddy memory came floating back to him. Emily'd kissed him. Well, why the hell would she do that?

But he knew exactly why. And it had worked. His head had been bandaged up – he felt better.

"But now I get it though. Why you like her better, Morgan. She's _easy,_ isn't she?"

Morgan clenched his jaw, minding Emily's pleading look. She didn't want him to get hurt anymore, he understood that.

But there was no way he was sitting by if Elle so much as touched his partner.

Derek Morgan was a protector, he always had been. His mom, his sisters, and now his team. He would take his last breath if it meant any one of them could live on. He protected the ones he loved, if it was the last thing he did.

Emily though, she was a protector too – there lie the problem. They clashed, each wanting to be the martyr, each wanting to protect one another so fiercely that it often led to disaster.

And Derek knew, at that moment, that both or neither of them would die in that room.

And he hoped, prayed, that it would be the latter as he saw Emily bravely take the first of what would probably be many hits.

**[Hope you liked it! Not sure about Hotch and if he was too OOC.**

**Leave me a review and tell me what you thought! More reviews = faster updates :)]**


	6. Chapter 6

**[I've been terrible with updates, I'm sososo sorry.]**

Derek genuinely hated feeling helpless. He'd tried so hard to get the chains off, he just about broke his wrists. It was no use anyway – he knew that. But he couldn't stand this.

He'd watched, shaking with anger, as Elle took all of her anger out on his partner. Then she'd left, but Emily was still in the chair, all the way across the room. Her body was limp and her t-shirt was soaked in blood; hers or his own, he wasn't really sure.

And she wasn't moving. That fact hit Derek the hardest – it was the thing that made him pull on his chains so much that he produced gaping sores on his wrists. The thought that she might be dead lingered in the back of his mind, but he refused to let it register.

He'd tried saying her name, screaming it even, and nothing. Her head was tilted back in the chair, so he couldn't see her breathing either.

The one reassuring thing that Derek could still hold on to was that when Elle had left, she hadn't checked for a pulse. If she wanted Emily dead, she would have checked. But she didn't. It was insignificant, conjecture at best, but it was all he had.

So he resigned to just sitting there, periodically calling out Emily's name, realizing that this was most probably the worst moment of his life.

He could _help_ her, but the stupid chains were keeping him away. He had half a mind to look up into the camera and plead; beg for Elle to come in and release his chains so that he could help her.

And yet, Derek had too much pride for that. It wasn't smart, he told himself. He couldn't show Elle weakness – he couldn't reveal that he needed her, because that's exactly what she wanted.

If he genuinely thought Elle would do it, he would ask. He would beg, plead, whatever it took. But it would probably result in mocking and maybe even more injuries for Emily. Elle was psychotic – she wasn't going to help anybody.

So Derek sat, and he waited. And he agonized, and my god, did he pray.

* * *

>-CM-<p><p>

Hotch could've sworn days passed – days of him in that room, of lipstick on the wall, of JJ's agonizing blank expression – of her silent tears. Though it might've been a couple hours – there was no way to be sure. Time blurred in these situations, Hotch very well knew that.

At first, they'd talked. They had discussed the case; JJ told him everything she remembered and he profiled – in his head, of course. She told him of how she got here, of what she knew about the others. That wasn't much, anyway.

They tried knocking again, but no one answered. The fear in JJ's eyes mirrored his as they both agonized over who was on the other side of the wall and what the hell had happened to them.

But after what seemed like forever, they settled into a stony silence. JJ just stared into a spot on the wall, on her face an expression that Hotch prayed he'd never see there – hopelessness.

The enthusiasm that usually settled in her eyes was gone, and her features were settled into seriousness – but he knew well what that was. It was a mask, a natural defense of the body to overwhelming despair. It could be guilt, or depression, or maybe even both.

All the terrible things going through her mind were well-concealed under the stoic exterior, and he knew she was falling apart inside. That thought almost tore him apart because he was used to seeing that mask every day when he looked in the mirror, but the sight of it on JJ's usually cheerful and beautiful face made him want to vomit.

Too many times, he'd almost mentioned it to her. Almost told her that it would be better to talk about it, even to sob like Garcia does than to hide. And yet every time he'd chickened out because who was he, the person who's been hiding for years, to tell her anything.

So Aaron just shut up, and he watched her, and he hoped that it wouldn't destroy him.

A voice came from the speaker in the far right corner of the room, and Hotch automatically reached for his gun. It wasn't there, of course.

He recognized the voice immediately. It was still chilling to hear her after all of these years – especially to hear her saying those terrible things – things he'd never think she'd be capable of.

"Well, well, well, look who decided to join the party.", she said, her voice echoing awkwardly around the empty room.

"Elle, I know what you want.", he said, following the script he had made in his head. It took no convincing to give himself up like this, it was almost second nature.

He couldn't save Hayley – he was never going to let that happen again. No one was going to die because of him, not another person.

"Is that so?", she responded, her voice mocking.

"Me. And you've got me. So why don't you just let the rest of them go unharmed? They won't try anything.", he said, the last words like a threat, and he hoped his voice could be heard in all the rooms, especially Emily's and Morgan's.

Who was he kidding, of course they would try to help. He couldn't be mad, but he wished for a minute that they would be normal. That, being offered the opportunity to escape, they would run for the hills and not look back. But his team wasn't normal, not even fucking close.

"Well, it's a little too late for that. One of them's already dead."

He had so many things to say, so many questions to ask, but he found he couldn't get out the simplest sentence.

The speaker disconnected, and he heard JJ's gasps, almost like bursts of pain, from the corner. Almost subconsciously, he pulled her into a hug, squeezing as hard as he could, burying his face into her shirt to stop his own tears.

_It's a bluff, it's a bluff, it's a bluff, _he tried to convince himself, but all it took was the slightest margin of error – just the slightest possibility that someone you love is hurt to send you reeling.

"It's a bluff.", he whispered into JJ's hair, as she finally let the tears go.

And he rocked her back and forth, and shut his own eyes tight, and hoped for sleep to come – because in his dreams, he could see Jack again. In his dreams, he could have a different life – he could be a different person, not this pathetic destroyed one he'd become.

-CM-

Reid opened his eyes slowly, shocked that he got some sleep in. But all he felt was the incredible dryness of his throat and the overwhelming fatigue, even though he'd just slept.

Was this how she was going to kill him? Dehydration? That was certainly one of the worst ways to die. He must've really pissed her off to deserve that.

Reid already felt the muscle cramps and weakness, so he guessed the vomiting wasn't far behind. Sweat was long gone, and he was sure he could not produce a tear if he tried.

So he had a week, ten days if he was lucky.

He'd never been afraid of death really, it had always been just a scientific fact – a part of life every organism goes through. But it hit him right then – the fear.

Reid realized how much he'd missed out on. He realized that he was only _thirty years old_, that dying seemed absolutely terrifying. Somehow, the fear, or maybe it was the lack of water, made him do something irrational.

Spencer Reid begged. He tilted his head up to the camera, speaking not to the Elle he had spoken to before, but to the old Elle – the woman who'd flirt with Derek, who'd make fun of him and crack jokes, yet be there, completely serious, when you needed to talk.

"Water. Please.", he uttered out, shocked at how hoarse his voice sounded, at how much the words hurt coming up his throat.

Then he fell back onto the floor – rolled up in a miserable ball and waited for death to come, or for the old Elle to come and save him from the monster she'd become.

-CM-

"Emily, Em, come on!", he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth, one over the other, as panic inadvertently set in.

He knew it would be no use, but this was the only thing he could think of to do to keep himself from going insane. Shit, maybe he already was.

"Emily!", he almost-screamed, but she didn't move an inch.

Throwing his hands up in defeat, he put his head between his knees and shut his eyes tight. He could feel the tears prickling in the corners, just like the anger was bubbling inside him.

And yet, when he looked up, he didn't feel angry. He felt hopeless. And the words that left his mouth weren't what he expected either. They were quiet. They sounded broken.

They were raw and heartbreakingly true.

"Emily, please don't leave again."

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	7. Chapter 7

**[Here you go guys, next chapter! As you know, reviews are always appreciated!] **

Rossi's entire mind was foggy, and his memory was full of god knows how long of slipping in and out of consciousness. He tried to force himself to sleep in order to forget about the hunger and thirst nagging at the corners of his mind, yet he couldn't.

His brain was still working, looking for ways out of here, even though he knew it was hopeless. He found himself wishing that maybe, maybe, one floor tile was loose, or that Elle had foolishly left the door unlocked. They were stupid, childish things that he hoped for, but he couldn't manage much else.

When the door opened, he was sure it was in his head. He couldn't even recall the amount of times he'd imagined the noise, praying for Aaron to be on the other side in Kevlar.

But it wasn't his imagination, because Elle walked in, holding a water bottle in one hand and a handful of energy bars in the other. It took all of Rossi's self-control not to immediately grab them out of her hands. But he needed to wait for her to give them to him. He needed to build at least some trust if he wanted to accomplish anything.

Elle walked across the room slowly, finally sitting down propped up against the wall next to his. She looked at him for a second, squinting, before throwing the bottle of water and a bar over.

Rossi caught them expertly and immediately took a gulp, the water feeling like liquid relief down his throat. Then, he unwrapped the energy bar and started to eat, taking small bites.

After a couple minutes of silence, Elle spoke – in a voice much different than what Dave had heard earlier.

"I'm not crazy, you know."

Rossi looked up at her expectantly. He didn't know what she was trying to prove – to him or to herself, but he would listen. For god's sakes, he would even tell her she was right if it meant saving the team.

"I know you think I am, but I'm not.", she added, her voice reaching desperation.

He took another swig of water, waiting for the explanation that was sure to come.

"I- I just, I need to be in control for once. This job – you always think you have the upper hand, but really you never do. You try and try and you catch the bad guys when you can, though there's always someone – some monster waiting on your doorstep when you get home. And he takes everything you had, everything you were so sure of. He takes your peace of mind and your sanity, and he makes you realize that you were never really in control at all. With this job, none of us ever are.", she said, searching his face for some sign of a reaction.

Dave took a moment to look at her, really look. He looked past the scowl she always wore, past the eyes that shot daggers and the gun on her hip. And for the first time, he saw her. He saw the bags under her eyes, how un-naturally thin she was, how her eyes darted from corner to corner as if she was still expecting her monster to come and get her. Rossi realized that she didn't look like the woman in that picture, not at all. She looked broken and tired, and just about ready to give up.

But above all that was determination and anger. Above that was a need for revenge which had driven her to this. And finally, Rossi could say he understood her.

She saw him studying her, and all of a sudden she seemed to get defensive. Her arms crossed over her chest and she shifted her position away from him, as if she was ashamed of what he'd find if he looked.

"I guess I just wanted to ask how you do it. Even after all this time, how do you still manage to get up every morning and go to a new crime scene and see the dead bodies and tell the grieving families? How do you interview all the killers and see exactly what goes on in their fucked up minds every single day, and then go home and cope with the nightmares? I guess... I guess I want to know if there's some secret to it. I need to know why the job hasn't taken you yet, even after all this time."

He was looking into her eyes, and he could see all the uncertainty sparkling in them. And for a second, she didn't look like a psychopath killer. She looked like one of the victims that never really got better; she looked like a woman who was just looking for answers.

So he answered, as honestly as he could. Because really, she deserved at least that.

Rossi took out his wallet from his pocket, suddenly grateful she'd let him keep it. He opened to the pictures and flipped past the one of Caroline and his little boy that had never gotten to grow up. He flipped to the next page – to the family sitting on their front lawn, to the family that looked happy and carefree. He held the picture up to her and she reached out to get it.

"This is how. Every day, when my mind is full of darkness, when it seems like I'll never get out, I look here. I think of all the children I've saved, all the families I have given answers, all the mothers I have put at peace. And I know that it's worth it. So every day, I drag myself out of bed and hope that it will be a good one, that maybe we'll save someone else. You see that family there? Both of their parents were murdered, twenty years ago. It took me twenty whole years, but I got answers for them. I put the killer behind bars and I got justice for their parents. And, you know what, every Christmas, they still send me a card, and on the anniversary of their parent's death, they always call, just to say thank you. And that's how I do it. Those phone calls, all those families I helped keep together, that's how I manage to keep doing this job, even though it's taken pieces of me that I'm not sure I'll ever get back."

Elle looked at the picture, running her thumb over the laughing kids, and Dave swore he saw a tear come out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly, he wondered if she'd had a loving family, if they were somewhere out there right now, missing their little girl. Because he knew that even though she was still alive, she was nothing like the woman she'd been before joining the BAU.

"I- I tried. I tried to convince myself how worth it the job was, but in the end it destroyed me. A case became personal, I got hurt, and nothing was ever the same again. The job ruined me, Rossi. I'm not who I used to be, not by a longshot. This job might be important, but it's just not worth it. We'll never catch them all anyway. There will always be more monsters, more victims we didn't save. I just, I just think that it's not worth losing yourself over.", she was crying by now, the tears streaming down her face freely.

"The job didn't ruin you Elle. You let it. This isn't about the guy who shot you, or about Hotch, it's about _you_. If you had just abandoned your pride for a minute and let someone help, maybe you wouldn't have lost yourself. Don't blame the job for your mistakes."

She got up then, anger playing on her face again. She walked to the door, throwing the last couple energy bars at him.

"Huh, who are you kidding. You're just like me. One day, those families aren't going to be enough for you. One day, a case'll get personal and you'll break down and then, you'll end up just like me – crazy.", she said mockingly and the slam of the door followed close behind.

Rossi looked up and said a prayer, hoping that he would have more cases to work, hoping that he'd get out of there and have the chance to prove her wrong.

* * *

><p><p>

When Reid woke up, there was already a bottle of water next to him. He gulped it down eagerly and sighed at the relief he felt as the liquid went down his throat. Even though he knew he should make it last, the bottle was gone in a matter of minutes.

Twirling the empty bottle around his finger, he wondered whether Elle just wanted him alive or his pleading had gotten to her. Either way, this gave him more time.

His mind was now clearer, and he knew he had to make some sort of move. This was like a chess game – he couldn't just wait it out, or else the opponent would surely win.

So he looked up into the camera again, trying to figure out something to say. He tried to stay as close to the truth as possible, because the truth was easier to make convincing than a lie. And the words that came out of his mouth were 100% true, and it made the pain of her leaving come right back to him, like a bullet in the chest.

"Elle, I don't forgive you for leaving like that, I don't think I ever will... But I do miss you, if that means anything."

If the old Elle had gotten him water, then maybe, just maybe, there was more of her in there somewhere – and Spencer knew the only way he could win at this point was to try and get her out.


End file.
